


iridescence

by thishazeleyeddemon



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Animal Death, Child Abuse, Genie Jay (Disney), Harm to Animals, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Soulmates, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17175665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thishazeleyeddemon/pseuds/thishazeleyeddemon
Summary: IRIDESCENCE[noun]1. The state or condition of being coloured like a rainbow or like the light shining through a prism; the visual property of something having a milky brightness and a play of colors from the surface. Also known as goniochromism.2. Producing a display of lustrous, rainbow-like colors; prismatic.3. Brilliant, lustrous, or colorful.Mal, Auradon, her people, and soulmates.





	iridescence

**Author's Note:**

> Lord have mercy and let me finish something that's longer for once. Rating and tags subject to change as more chapters are added.

Mal had met Jay for the first time when she was seven, although she didn’t speak to him properly until she was nine. 

 

It was a storm. The Isle’s weather was never good at the best of days, but this time it was coming hard. The rain slammed into the ground like nails into wood, stinging, roaring down from the heavens, drilling down into bone. The poor earth turned to sloshing mud that splattered onto the legs of the sinners and unfairly condemned alike as they tried to run for shelter from the howling winds. 

 

Mal watched the roiling darkness from the relative safety of Bargain Castle. 

 

Maleficent had fallen asleep already. Mal had already learned the patterns for her mother’s circadian rhythm. Asleep at 10 PM and awake at 8 AM every day, Mal had learned to pretend to be asleep until her mother was. That left her a few glorious hours of freedom before she would have to go to sleep, freedom in a castle so large she could move about basically at will without worrying about waking her mother.

 

Down below, someone screamed. A sharp knife-stab of a sound, quickly cut off with a gurgle. Sitting in one of the castle windows, Mal heard it and did nothing. She thought nothing too, because even seven years of living with Maleficent had taught her there were some things that were safer not to think. Goosebumps covered her arms. She rubbed them idly, and made no attempt to find anything to wrap up in. Maleficent wanted her to be strong, and she was grateful that the only challenge this time was chill. She rubbed her arms, and curled up to conserve body heat, and stared out the window into the mass of chaos that was the Isle night.

 

A flash of red, down in the dark. 

 

Mal sat up straight, pressing her hands against the glass. For a moment she thought she imagined it, but - no, there it was. A streak of yellow and red, moving down in the dark. Moving towards the castle. 

 

She got up quickly, spun on her heel, and ran like hell towards the staircase. She passed a few of the goblins on the way, who flattened themselves against the wall when she passed. They remembered what had happened to the goblin last week who had bothered Mal when Maleficent had heard of it.

 

Mal had had to clean up the blood herself.

 

It took a much shorter time than it would have ever taken anyone else to get down to the ground level: even Maleficent probably didn’t know the castle how Mal did. The ground level was empty, except for a few cages, still unoccupied. Mal had spent a few nights down here, but generally wasn’t allowed unless Maleficent was punishing her. A few torches were flickering on the walls, which dripped with condensation. 

 

No one seemed to be down here. Mal swallowed, looking at the way the shadows danced on the wall. She did not think of running to Maleficent even once.

 

A soft scuffling, at the edge of hearing.

 

Mal hissed, her eyes flashing green as she spun. The scuffling stopped immediately.

 

“Who’s there?” she called out. No one answered.

 

Mal gritted her teeth. No one could use magic on the Isle which evened the odds somewhat, and no one was super strong after eating Isle food, and if her mother learned that she’d ran for help instead of dealing with an intruder on her own she’d be sleeping down here in the cold for a week. 

 

She walked forward. The scuffling did not resume, but as she walked forward she began to hear the sound of labored breathing.

 

She wasn’t scared.

 

She wasn’t.

 

She reached the corner, the place where the corridor twisted, and struck out quickly. Her blow caught only air, and emboldened by that she let it carry her around the bend to see -

 

\- another kid.

 

Stumbling to a stop, Mal stared at the kid. He had an oversized hat that slipped down over his eyes, and the rest of his clothes were probably red and yellow once. His long dark hair was a tangled, sopping mess. From the mass of hair and red fabric, she saw two golden eyes gleaming, catching the torchlight but it was more than that, wasn’t it, Mal realized. They were glowing, the way she did when she was being defiant. This kid was too. Even though he was soaked and coated in mud and curled up against the wall, his fists were balled up and his eyes were filled with what looked like an attempt at bravado.

 

They stared at each other. Neither said anything. The rain drummed on the castle roof, far above.

 

Mal stepped forward. The kid tensed, but Mal didn’t attack him. She stopped just with arm’s reach of him, and held out her hand. 

 

When the boy didn’t move, Mal lashed out like a snake and grabbed his arm, pulling him to his feet. “Come with me,” she ordered. 

 

“No!” To Mal’s shock, the boy yanked his arm away. Mal was used to being stronger, one of the only benefits she got from her fae heritage under the Barrier. No one her age was able to break her grip like that. 

 

She opened her mouth to order him again, when she realized he was no longer looking at her. He was staring down at his wrist. Mal looked down too. 

 

At first she thought it was a bruise, and wondered if she had really gripped him so tightly, but it wasn’t the darkish red of a fresh bruise. It was a deep, royal purple handprint. She could see the shape of her fingertips. It was the same color as her hair- _ oh.  _

  
  


_ There was no magic left on the Isle, Auradon said. _

 

_ The merfolk exiled no longer sang. Ursula scrubbed her fingers raw working in her fish & chips shop. The fae walked, the djinn’s sparking wishes stayed underneath their skin. Maleficent’s castle was built brick by brick, by blood and sweat. Jafar’s staff was just a snake-headed stick.  _

 

_ There was no magic on the Isle, Auradon said. They were safe, safe, safe. None of their villains could hurt them anymore. There was no magic left. _

 

_ But there was. _

 

_ Mal’s eyes glowed venom green when she was scared or angry. Queen Grimhilde’s mirror still spoke, although it needed blood to fuel its scrying. And of course there were those colors, whatever they were. No one in all the worlds that joined in Auradon knew. You just started out bare and colorless, and than, one day, if you met the right person… _

 

_...well. Maybe nothing. But sometimes not. _

 

Mal and the boy stared at each other. The purple on his arm looked like a birthmark, like something that had always been part of him.

 

He took a step forward, opening his mouth. Mal cut him off.

 

“You can stay down here for now,” she told him. Her voice was higher than she liked, the way it always was when she was nervous or scared or just plain emotional. “I’ll come down here in the morning. If I see you, I’m giving you to my mother.”

 

She didn’t wait for him to say he understood. On that note, she turned and strode away, holding her head high. She could hear the sound of someone collapsing back against the wall as she did.

 

She didn’t turn around. 

  
  


He was gone in the morning.

 

He left no evidence of his being there but a few wet smears of mud, easily cleaned without anyone noticing. And that, Mal figured, must be that; if he’s smart he’d keep Maleficent’s daughter’s shameful moment of weakness to himself. Along with, hopefully, the source of his mark.

 

And he did! For two years, she didn’t see him, doesn’t hear of him. In fact, after a few months, as the whole thing fades into the Past, she quite forgets about it. She’s being trained to rule the whole Isle instead of just a chunk of it, after all. Dereliction of duty for the sake of some boy is not acceptable. 

 

Usually. In normal conditions, it isn’t. 

 

But tonight, the Hounds are loose, and Mal has some more immediate concerns.

 

How they got loose is anyone’s guess; Hades loves his hounds as much as anyone can love anything here and keeps them safe in his house, where they can’t eat anyone he’s allied with. Mal doesn’t quite buy that he would have slacked off enough to let them escape, but someone being stupid enough to let them out also doesn’t sound like a survivalist Islander.

 

A howl split the frigid Isle air. It wasn’t even a scary howl, really, except that it echoed with a harmonic that went right down to the marrow, right past the layers of pride and desire to please and fury down, down to the part of her brain that was still something small and squirming in a forest, something furry, something that had learned to fear wolves.

 

Her heart hammered against her chest. Her feet pounded against the earth and the wind whipped her hair into her mouth as she fled the Hounds of Hell.

 

The part of her brain that wasn’t consumed with  _ run run runrunrunrun keep moving  _ and with the flash of the teeth was crystal-clear.  _ Down this alley left at the fork wait Ursula’s territory danger turn right here move move move -  _ the whole Isle was laid out in her head. She just had to keep moving follow the road back to Bargain Castle and not collapse until she was safely inside she could do it she could do it she could  _ hear the thud of the paws against the ground  _ do it  _ fuck  _ did her ribs hurt.

 

_ (She had it better than most Isle residents would, she realized later. Maleficent was cruel but she didn’t want an heir that was too sickly to fight, so Mal, for all that she was nine years old here, was stronger than most, through training and better food and sleep than most got, even if it was never enough that her stomach was really full. Most wouldn’t have made it even a mile before the Hounds were on them. _

 

_ (She didn’t know until many years later, but this was Carlos de Vil’s only firsthand knowledge of dogs until Dude: the wild cries of the Hounds as they pursued her through the darkened streets, the heavy pound of her feet as she ran.) _

 

Here was the things that Mal knew about the Hounds, however.

 

 

  * _They were Hades’s pets, immortal spirits of the Underworld._


  * If this had been the Underworld, she would have been dead; on the Isle they had no eyes of fire and teeth like knives.


  * Here they were just really fast, really powerful dogs.



 

 

Here’s the things Mal didn’t know about the Hounds.

 

  1. There is no ‘just’ with really fast, really powerful dogs.
  2. They were smart, too.
  3. Hades didn’t just keep them for pets. Hades had kept them for hunting.



 

Mal aimed for the narrow gap between two houses when the Hound appeared from the other side.

 

She skidded to a stop, sending mud flying out. 

 

She didn’t bother turning to run. She could hear the heavy footfalls of the other Hound’s paws as it got into position behind her. 

 

The moment when you face your death is a strange one. Mal had felt fear before, a high, sharp feeling like a tuning fork struck against glass, but it had fled, leaving a light emptiness. The whole world seemed focused and clear. She could see every smudge of filth against the ramshackle tin-plated Isle walls, could see every bristling black hair on the Hound’s back, could see the moonlight glinting beyond the light-warping Barrier in the distance. 

 

Drool dripped from the Hound’s teeth. The one behind her let out a low snarl. 

 

_ So this is it,  _ she thought. It felt like a distant, remote truth. Nothing to do with her.  _ How long will it take Mother to notice? _

 

The Hound in front took a step forward. 

 

The red blur that collided with it was almost too fast for Mal to see. Before her brain clued into the change and the world seemed real again the Hound was flying back, thudding against the wall of the house. The blur resolved itself into the boy, the boy Mal had almost forgotten. He was taller than her now, broader too. He was still wearing his red leathers, and he had a knife in his hand, gleaming and shocking silver against the muddy night. 

 

The Hound tried to get up, but the boy was upon it in an instant, knife flashing forward to bury itself in the Hound’s skull. It squealed, once, and lay still.

 

The one behind her growled. Mal spun, green rising in her eyes. She could take one Hound, but before she could move there was an arc of silver in the air, and the other -  _ dog,  _ just a dog now - was falling dead with a knife in its eye.

 

The world, which had been holding its breath, breathed out. The night sounds filtered back in again as the boy came past her. He knelt, and with a rush of viscera pulled the blade from its eye.

 

Beat. 

 

“Why did you help me?” Mal asked. It had to be known.

 

The boy regarded her coolly. His eyes were still golden, Mal noted. 

 

( _ In years to come she would let herself voice thoughts she hadn’t had words for here, hadn’t known were true here: that they were the color of a sunset over desert hills, that they could be warm and gentle just like his hands could, that they were beautiful and kind just like their owner, the way they’d thought Isle kids couldn’t be.) _

 

Here, in this now, he shrugged. “Wanted to repay you for before. Not good to owe faeries favors, Dad told me.”

 

His voice was deep for a child his age. He spoke softly, the way no one Mal knew did unless it was out of fear. 

 

She looked, and saw that the purple she’d colored his arm had already faded. He caught her gaze and looked down.

 

“It faded after a few months,” the boy said. She couldn’t read the emotion in his voice at all. “I thought it might be permanent at that point, but it wasn’t.”

 

She nodded, slowly.

 

She should go, at this point. So should he. Any obligations were fulfilled, and thanks were anathema on the Isle. They implied caring, implied fealty. 

 

Neither of them moved.

 

His hair was long, and dark. She’d noticed that when she met him before, but she hadn’t seen through all the mud that it was wavy. Even with poor Isle nutrition, it shone in the witchlight from the mingling of the Barrier and the moon. 

 

“What’s your name?” she’d said it before she knew she’d decided to. “I’m Mal.” This was an afterthought, meant to convince him she didn’t want to use it against him.

 

           “Jay. Son of Jafar,” he added, and oh, of course he was, that wasn’t faerylight she saw shining behind his eyes, it was the banked fires of a captive djinn. He had to hate it here as much as she did, feel the cold iron clasp of the Barrier with every breath he took. If he was a Jay than he had to feel the ache to fly, to flee lightfoot anywhere as long as it was away from here, just like she did.

 

           ( _ She didn't know she was right about this until a few years later.) _

 

Before Mal could say anything else, Jay set his knife down carefully against the wall of one of the houses and stepped away from it, putting it outside of arm’s reach. He raised his hands, keeping them open where she could see them and see he held no weapon to use against her. 

 

“I-I’d like to make you an offer,” he said, and his voice only shook a little. 

 

Mal’s heart skipped a beat. She’d never entered the favortrade before, but she’d seen her mother do it and Maleficent was a natural. She couldn’t disappoint.

 

“Make it, then,” she said, raising her hands in the same gesture and trying to sound as grand as Maleficent always did.

 

“I don’t see you outside the Castle a lot,” Jay began. “And - well - things attack you a lot?” He gave her an almost sheepish look. “The dogs, and Ursula, and you nearly got shanked in that alley, and -”

 

“Get to the point,” Mal snapped, rethinking her decision not to walk away.

 

She could see the body of one of the dogs, cooling quietly by the wall. It seemed sad, in death. Nowhere near the mighty Hunter that had nearly caught her. The tug in her chest was one it would take her nearly the next decade to understand.

 

Jay shrugged. “Seemed to me you could use a bodyguard or something. You know. Someone to watch your back. You're tough, but something only needs to get lucky once.”

 

Right on cue, the sizzle of pride underneath her chest boiled up with a snap. She didn't  _ need  _ anyone, and she could taste the words on her tongue before more rational parts of her interjected. She didn't need anyone, but it would be nice to look over her shoulder less. It would be a help. Maybe this would get her mom to send her out to network allies less - or maybe she could even bring Jafar to her mother! Maybe…

 

...she caught another glance of Jay's fiery golden eyes, like the heart of a star, and her breath caught in her throat.

 

Mal forced out, “And what would you want in return from me?”

 

Now, Jay looked uncomfortable for the first time. “Food,” he said, his voice short. “A place to sleep sometimes. A bit of - authority, so people can't try and push me around as much. I don't mean in the castle,” he added quickly. “At least, not if your mom wouldn't want me in there.”

 

“She probably wouldn't even notice unless you broke something,” Mal told him, for once being honest. “She barely notices me outside of training unless I do. And she's always pushing me to get allies - she wants me to be her heir.”

 

“At least she wants you for something irreplaceable,” Jay muttered, and Mal's heart twisted. 

 

“We have an accord,” Mal said. “I'll get you food, good food even, you keep the wolves off my tail. Deal?” She could smell what magic she could touch rising around her. It smelled like blood and sour apples. A faery's word when given was unbreakable, that was deeper magic than what the Auradonian Traitress could touch.

 

“Deal,” Jay nodded. She smelled his magic too. It was more metallic than bloody, the scent of copper, paired with some sort of spice she didn't recognize. 

 

( _ Cinnamon.) _

 

That didn't change the fact it smelled like hers.

 

“Why me?” Mal asked when the Pact had been made. When Jay tilted his head, she explained, “There are other people on the island, people closer to the Auradon barges when they come. And I haven't come into my own yet. Why me?”

 

Jay smirked at her. He'd shoved his hands in his pockets, but he drew one out again when she asked. “Well,” he started, and reached out for her hand. She tensed, but all he did was raised her fingertips to his cheek and draw them downwards. They left a line of royal purple behind him, already soaking into his skin like a tattoo. 

 

Mal's breath caught again. She turned her wrist over, marveling at the smear of bronze-like sparkly gold. 

 

( _ In later years, when she took to wearing gloves, she would stick to only one, the better to make sure the gold stood out.) _

 

“Somehow,” Jay finished, his voice seeming very satisfied, “I thought we would click.”

 

She stared at him, before walking up and dragging her fingers across his collarbone. She was mildly disappointed to see no color this time, but the purple on his face shone out in the dim light. Everyone would be able to see it, that they were allies now and no one would be able to mess with them without incurring the wrath of the other.

 

“We will,” she told him, voice low and certain. 

 

He smiled again, showing his teeth. They were sharper than a human's. Mal caught herself running her tongue over her own sharp teeth with pleasure. 

 

“We will,” he echoed. 

 


End file.
